


Melody of a Lonely and Broken Heart

by wherethewordsare



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eh yeah, Jaskier..., Kinda?, M/M, Not Beta Read, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, They're traveling together again, We Die Like Men, angst with happy ending, but not super spooky, but ya know, ghost story, idiots to lovers, looking at you, miscommunications, music is magic, not talking, post mountain, the not talking thing..., they should just ya know... talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27220057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wherethewordsare/pseuds/wherethewordsare
Summary: Jaskier tells Geralt about these ruins where it’s said these ghosts come out every Fall Equinox and sing to each other. Geralt knows where it is but says that he’s never heard the singing... Ah, well.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 5
Kudos: 118





	Melody of a Lonely and Broken Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [artistsfuneral](https://archiveofourown.org/users/artistsfuneral/gifts).



Geralt wasn’t sure why he had opened his damn mouth. It wasn’t like it had even been a direct question, but Jaskier sat across the fire, a noticeably too far distant that Geralt wasn’t trying to notice at all, chatting away about a story his Gran had told him.

“They say at the Fall Equinox, they show up and sing in the ruins. I think it’s kind of lovely, actually, if it weren’t so spooky. I’ve known a few bards to have gone looking for them,” He was leaning back, looking up at the sky. The column of his throat was cast in the muted light of the fire and Geralt felt his chest tighten. 

It had been surprisingly easy to get back in Jaskier’s good graces, too easy. But there was still a tension between them that Geralt didn’t like. It made for more quiet days on the Path and nights that were shared from across a firm line in the sand. Geralt didn’t blame him, but there was only so much he could ignore the stinging in his heart. 

“You know, they don’t actually sing,” he grimaced as the words tumbled out of his mouth. 

“What?” Jaskier was sitting up then, leaning in to look at Geralt, his eyes wide. 

“The ‘Singing Lovers’. They don’t actually sing. Witchers have been going there for just about as long as they’ve been haunting the place to try to release them but it never takes. I’ve been myself once or twice. I’ve never heard them sing.” He looked up and couldn’t help the way his lips tugged up at the look on Jaskier’s face. 

“The lights?” Jaskier was scooting closer, hooked on the story Geralt finally deemed worth divulging. 

“Some, but not as bright as the stories make it out to be, and only around some of the stones,” Geralt explained. He picked up a stick and made the effort to move closer, doing so slowly in case Jaskier decided to move back again. He tried not to delight in the fact that he didn’t. 

“The glade looks like this…” Geralt drew out a series of lines, the outlines of the foundation of the keep that had once stood there a millennia ago. 

“Where?” Jaskier whispered, looking first down at the rough sketch then up at Geralt’s face, his eyes bright and trusting. 

_ Oh.  _ Geralt swallowed, looking up at the sky and trying to think of where they were.  _ Fuck.  _

“The Equinox is next week. We could be there by the day before,” He had been a few times and he knew there was no danger to Jaskier and it wasn’t like they had to be anywhere. If a small detour from the path would get Jaskier to look at him like that again after the dragon hunt, well, who was Geralt to say no?

-o-O-o-

They arrived with plenty of time to set camp. Jaskier had set a satchel aside with loose sheets of paper, a few quills, and ink. He prepared himself for adventure in a way that Geralt prepared for battle, the tools of his trade neatly arranged and waiting for practiced hands to implement them. 

Geralt found himself watching those very same hands closely, frowning at the tug in his chest that made him want to reach for them. Usually, he had this under control, but just in that moment, he found it nearly impossible. 

“Is that a new song you’re working on?” Geralt asked as he handed Jaskier the waterskin. “I could hear you from the river.” 

Jaskier only tilted his head in confusion and Geralt didn’t miss how he carefully moved his fingers not to brush against his. Another thing that had been lost on the mountain, the easy way Jaskier used to touch him. Gone were the days of fingers meeting along the edge of handed goblets and whetstones, pats on the shoulder as he passed Geralt in cramped shared rooms, and gentle hip checks as they walked side by side. The soft humming he had heard earlier seemed to swell for a moment and then it was gone again. 

“I… no.” Jaskier finally answered, looking off into the wood where they would follow the trail tomorrow to the glen. His face was pinched as he tilted his head this way and that as if trying to catch something in the wind. But even as he said no, he hummed a few bars to the melody anyways, looking all too not pleased about it. 

Through the night, Geralt caught snippets of the music but now also the steady breathing of Jaskier asleep on the other side of the fire. He finally drifted off into something resembling sleep, a strange melody ghosting over his lips. 

The day of the Equinox was otherwise unceremonious. They woke, broke camp, packed, carefully banked the fire, and then set out onto the trail that would take them to the ruins of Corkirk Hall. 

It was nearly nightfall by the time they reached the ridge, a soft slope that tumbled easily down into the clearing below. From their vantage point, they could make out the place where the foundation had grown over with roots and grass, though the labyrinth of stones still told the story of the keep’s once expansive footprint. Only a marking stone stood as evidence the place had not been completely forgotten. 

Jaskier read it, tracing his fingers over the ancient Elder runes. 

> “To those who have known the loss
> 
> They will know where the melody is found
> 
> In the darkness of the night
> 
> Will your heart light to the sound”

“Yeah, that’s been here as long as the ghosts, but no one understands what it means. The Witchers have tried nearly everything. One even tried breaking the marker, but it only repaired itself,” Geralt explained, keeping his voice down. Even if he knew that this place wasn’t dangerous, it didn’t feel right to speak so loudly. 

Jaskier only worried his lip and didn’t seem to look at Geralt as he perched on an outcrop of stone, his bright blue eyes observing intently. Geralt settled against a tilted tree and they waited in not uncomfortable silence as the sunset behind them. He knew how this was going to end, at least, that’s what he thought.

As the last rays of light faded from the tune from the day before began to pluck itself out of the trees and stones. Two soft voices, as though they were coming up through rushing water joined their words nearly lost in the wind. 

“What the fuck?” Geralt bolted upright, drawing his sword but as he did, Jaskier only gasped. 

“I know…” Jaskier whispered, his eyes never leaving the pile of stones. 

Geralt followed his gaze and his jaw nearly dropped to his boots. There, swirling as leaves buffeted by a breeze, danced two figures of watery light. The song began to swell and Geralt’s medallion vibrated to the rhythm of it, adding just another instrument to the loosely conducted orchestra that built up around them. 

“I know!” Jaskier’s head snapped up, looking at Geralt and his eyes looked as lost as Geralt felt. “Those who know…” He gave Geralt a weak smile and tilted his head. “You’re going to kill me,” Jaskier sighed resignedly. 

And before Geralt could ask him what he meant, Jaskier was grabbing his lute and taking off down the hill, directly into the ruins. 

“Fuck,” Geralt muttered as he drew his sword, sliding down after Jaskier. “Jaskier, wait!” 

“I can’t Geralt! I can help. Let me help.” Jaskier was at a full sprint, his dark hair nearly pitch in the low light. But then… 

Geralt stopped, his chest constricting as he watched on in horror and confusion. The moment Jaskier’s feet crossed onto the foundation, every step he took sent up soft sparks of light, like fireflies. Stones illuminated around him and every blade of grass seemed to shed more and more bursts of light. 

Geralt had always thought Jaskier was attractive, he’d even admit to it if pressed. But here, as whatever magic swirled around him, encasing him in soft warm light, he was easily, one of the most beautiful things Geralt had ever seen. 

Jaskier stopped, not far from where the figures danced, their hands never touching though they reached desperately tried to through the barricade of light. He pulled his lute around, quickly tuning it up, humming through a series of scales before he found the one he was looking for. 

Geralt sheathed his swords and stepped carefully forward. The medallion on his chest hummed louder and for a moment, it pulled Jaskier’s attention. 

When their eyes met, Jaskier’s eyes went wide, but he only shook his head as if to clear it, and turned back to the figures. What had he seen? 

Geralt didn’t have enough time to wonder before Jaskier opened his mouth and began to sing. His voice was as clear and sweet as ever, though it was distinctly somber. It may have been the years of traveling with Jaskier that Geralt recognized it for what it was, the compliment of a three-part harmony. With Jaskier’s voice mixed in, the melody around them seemed to come together and the words that had been muffled through a veil of magic now came crisp and sharp, ringing out across the valley and through the trees. 

Geralt didn’t understand the language, but he too knew the words. He knew the tune as though it had been a lullaby in his childhood that he caught through a window of a nursery and suddenly could recall the feel of the words on his lips. He was not a skilled singer, not like Jaskier, but he soon found that his voice too joined in. 

Though he couldn’t understand exactly what the words were, he understood what they said. 

“Though you are lost my love, it will be alright. I am still here my love, it will be alright. It will be alright. Please be my love once more and I promise, it will be alright.” 

Jaskier played through the last bars, his head tilted back as he sang to the stars above and Geralt could only watch in wonder as he was nearly blinded by the light that washed off of Jaskier, thick and silvery as moonlight on fresh snow. The words hit him then and he nearly fell to his knees with them. 

> _ To those who have known the loss _
> 
> _ They will know where the melody is found _
> 
> _ In the darkness of the night _
> 
> _ Will your heart light to the sound _

What was it Jaskier had said? “I know.” Geralt knew too but had been far too stubborn, far too prideful to say. It dawned on him with how he watched his heart, Jaskier, light to the sound of the music he wove through the magic of this place. 

The last notes faded and with them, the ghosts finally locked hands, their eyes wide in their surprise. How long had they waited, Geralt wondered sadly. How long had Witchers been coming here trying to release these poor souls and all it took was the heart of a bard? His heart?

They watched in silence as the figures embraced, slowly dissolving into a shower of lights. 

It was Jaskier that broke the silence as he fell forward, gasping for air, the spell finally broken. Geralt rushed forward, pressing in, disregarding the way Jaskier tried to brush him off. He was shaking with exhaustion, his skin clammy as sweat cooled in the autumn night air. 

“Not sure what you just saw there,” Jaskier chuckled, gulping and not looking at Geralt. “But I don’t think there will be a problem with people hearing singing in the ruins anymore.” He gave Geralt a tired kind of smile, his eyes incredibly sad. 

> _ To those who have known the loss _
> 
> _ They will know where the melody is found _

“Jaskier…” Geralt reached out with tentative hands, slowly moving them to cup Jaskier’s face. He would leave him room to pull away if he wanted. 

Jaskier didn’t. 

“Jask, please. Please forgive me, I have been-” he huffed, running a calloused thumb over Jaskier’s cheekbone. The second passing left a wet smear across the soft skin there and Geralt frowned. “I saw you. I saw you in a light I didn’t know was there,” he admitted. 

“What are you saying Geralt?” he leaned in closer, even in the now dark, the light from earlier seemed caught in his eyes. 

“I mean, I heard you. I heard the song. I’ve always heard you, Jaskier, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” 

Jaskier chuckled, wet and desperate as he surged forward in Geralt’s arms, kissing him as they knelt in the ruins of a long-forgotten place, empty of the love that had haunted it, but filled with the melody of love come again. 


End file.
